


Another Rematch

by Elise_Davidson (orphan_account)



Series: 25 Ways to Sing [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 25 Ways to Sing, Challenge Response, F/M, Prompt Fic, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Y'know.  I kind of always wanted a rematch, just to say that I won."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Rematch

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, sorry! I just realized I was doing the series thing all wrong. I am so sorry if you got spammed with a fandom not yours!
> 
> Song: "So What"-P!nk

Katara is beginning to hate parties. She isn't an anti-social person per se—but still, she's getting tired of rooms packed with people desperate to meet Aang before whisking him away into conversations about political affairs, or the future of the Air Nomads (with pointed looks to her as if to size up her breeding capacity, ew), or what is the Avatar's most personal opinion on the current Firelord?

She has to actively keep the sour grimace from her face, and remind herself that while the young avatar's political roaming is tiring, it is necessary. Besides, it's not like Aang thinks it's just one big party after another, he knows how important it is to—

Katara looks up just as Aang spins a ball of air beneath his feet. His laughter is just as light and wild now as it was when he was 12, and it's almost out of place on the 19-year-old. He darts around on the ball with ease, and disappears between people and out of her sight.

She almost growls. They have a long flight ahead of them yet on Appa, and Aang's definitely having way more fun than she is.

She sighs, and opts for a random empty table in the opulent ballroom that this "state meeting" is taking place in. She's not so sure it's really a state meeting so much as it is an excuse to get drunk and rub elbows.

Unfortunately, Aang seems incapable of turning down invites, especially since Omashu is on the way back to the South Pole.

Katara distracts herself by bending the water from the abandoned drinks on the table. The swirls and drapes of fluid must look distracted or frustrated (probably both), because from out of the shadows, Zuko sits beside of her solemnly, inspecting her work with a bit of amusement that annoys her more than anything else.

"Can I help you?" she asks, and it comes out peevish instead of arched.

Zuko shrugs and leans back in his chair. "I would think you'd have been rubbing elbows with the rest. There are nobles from the Northern Tribe, you know."

Katara lifts a shoulder in her initial response, and drops the ribbons she had made with the wine from her left hand. "I've met the vast majority of them—they don't need any clearing up from me as to where we stand."

Zuko thinks there's a story there, but he wisely doesn't ask. He looks back to the swirled orb of amber-colored whiskey she stills bends from her right hand. "Why not join Aang then? I'm sure—"

"What are you even doing here? Maybe I wanted to be alone." She viciously tightens the sphere of whiskey. "Maybe it's my duty to sit here and simply await the Avatar's glorious presence."

Zuko snorts. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Katara lets the whiskey drop then too, because she's afraid she'll hit somebody with it. "I'm just tired, Zuko. Why aren't you out there rubbing elbows and kissing around?"

Zuko seems to consider the question, though the irritation flashes across his face. "I've met them," he smiles wryly at her, "And they don't need any clearing up from me as to where we stand."

Katara raises an eyebrow, because there's as much weight to his words as there were to hers. She leans against his shoulder, because she's tired of watching Aang be a natural social butterfly. She's not even sure she wishes she had him to herself anymore. She just wants to go home, start her life again without the threat of war looming, and perhaps train other water benders even…

Aang pops up out of nowhere, his smile bright on his older features. He hasn't gained much more weight as he's grown, but his muscles are lean and corded. There's the hint of stubble on his pale skin, and his gray eyes are just as bright now as they ever were.

"Katara, where've you been?" he asks excitedly. "Ty Lee and some of the other Kyoshi Warriors that are here for guard duty…they're going to put on a show from the circus!"

"That's great, Aang, but I'm sort of tired," Katara says gently, and Zuko's pretending to inspect a non-existent stain on his robes, because seriously, Katara sounds like she's ready to fight, "And we have a long ride coming…I really want to be there for the Unification Ceremony for Gran-Gran and Master Pakku. I already missed Suki and Sokka's first child…can't we just go ahead and head out?"

Aang rubs the back of his neck in an unconscious move that reminds Katara of their younger days. He's already agreed to something, and they're not going to leave out till much later, is what she gets from it.

It's essentially a pre-apology.

Zuko hangs closely, because it eventually turns into Katara yelling at Aang, and Aang, who is now older and less afraid of displeasing her, is yelling back. He grabs the collar of both their clothes, because seriously—people are starting to stare, and while he's above calling Katara a peasant anymore, he almost wants to ask if either of them have ever been in a room full of nobles.

He shuffles them outside. "Scream away," he motions, and closes the balcony doors behind him, because he doesn't want to actually witness it.

Toph is around somewhere though; he hadn't seen her in a while. Last he had, Toph had been bullying a Kyoshi warrior about what kind of security they were boasting for this "auspicious event" and being an all-around nuisance. He's pretty sure she might be attempting to terrorize Ty Lee, because so far, the girl had been unflappable to Toph's more direct tactics.

As such, Zuko is nearly caught off-guard when Toph saddles up next to him, barely six inches taller than she was at 12. "You're not going to watch that? Seriously, it'll be epic," she says with unmasked excitement.

"Not my fight," Zuko responds neutrally.

Toph pouts a bit, but she decides that she can hear it just fine. It'll just mean if she wants, she can tell Zuko later—though by the decibel level Katara is currently reaching, she doesn't think she'll have to.

"So, hotpants…why aren't you schmoozing with all of the other upper crusts hanging around? Seriously, I've already gotten like 4 marriage proposals, and one very fun Kyoshi warrior who was more my speed," Toph digs, because she doesn't want to beat around the bush. Zuko's been here all night, and he's barely said three words to anyone.

Zuko doesn't respond at first; Toph can practically feel him straining towards the doors of the balcony where he left Katara and Aang to sort it out. He begins to open his mouth when they're interrupted by the whoosh of the doors and a flat spray of fountain water.

Aang looks equal parts shocked, angry, and hurt. "Did you just bend at me?"

Katara glares at him. "I'm going home so I don't miss anything else!" she yells, and, with visual access to more water from the fancy fountains inside the ball room, bends herself off the balcony and to the ground.

Toph frowns, and suddenly hurtles a rock in Aang's direction. "Silly Twinkletoes!" she laughs, "You were supposed to wait for Firelord Zuko and I to join in on the demonstration!"

Aang looks terribly confused now, and not all together over the fact Katara had just fled the scene of a confrontation. It's not like her. "I'm…sorry?" he offers.

Toph winds her arm through Zuko's elbow. "Don't you remember?" she asks, her glassed-eyes staring just over his shoulder. "We were supposed to show off how the four nations can get together. Or something—I don't remember; you know it was Katara's idea."

Aang still doesn't seem to be catching on, but he approaches Toph anyway. The earthbender grabs onto his arm and steers him back into the crowd with a wary look in Zuko's direction.

Zuko sighs. Toph is probably one of the smartest schemers he knows.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Zuko finds Katara bending her frustrations out. As such, he approaches carefully, because she's working more with ice than water, and the moon is nearly full. She winds her body lithely; there is more grace in her forms than he remembers. But they're both older now, and have had quite a bit more practice.

He nearly jumps when a shard comes directly towards him, and it's only his reflexes that melt it before it gets to his face.

Zuko stares at her wryly. "I told Mai at one point that I've got enough scars—I don't need any others."

Katara rolls her eyes at him, and reties the angel sleeves of her robes to her shoulders. "Why don't you go talk to her then?"

"Because she's more than likely either making out with Jun or helping Jun find someone."

Katara looks at him sharply, and there's concern and hurt in her features. "You and Mai broke up? When? And Jun and Mai are making out? Seriously?"

Zuko hisses, because he's certain it will only upset her. "Over a year ago."

She howls as she throws the ice she's been working with into a nearby building. The frozen daggers shatter and crack as she falls to her knees. Her face is in her hands when Zuko approaches her carefully.

"I've missed so much in the last seven years," she laments.

"We've all missed a lot," Zuko offers, and his voice isn't as strong. "We've missed children, we've missed family. What else do you expect though? We helped Aang save the world, and now we're helping him rebuild it. That sort of schedule doesn't exactly allow for pleasantries."

"That why you and Mai split?" Katara asks bitterly.

Zuko shrugs, because he and Mai more fell apart than anything else. One day, it was perfect, the next, it simply wasn't. "We were unhappy," he edges out. "I didn't want to burden either one of us with the expectation of a relationship—"

"You're so full of it," Katara snaps, and jerks away from where Zuko had nearly touched her shoulder in comfort. "You're just as miserable as I am, you miss fighting as much as I do."

"I came to terms with my anger and resentment," Zuko replies coldly. "Perhaps you should do the same."

"So what if I'm angry and resentful?" Katara yells at him, and he has to wonder—when did this become her angry at him, she was mad at Aang—"So what if I'm unhappy? So what if we saved the world, and everyone only ever thinks it was Aang's doing, that it was the gracious Avatar, it was by the will of the Avatar that we live and breathe today, that I should be grateful that the Avatar is dragging me around the world from capital to capital while I miss everything about my life that I wanted back when I was young!" She whirls on him, hands raised and ice ready. "So what?"

Zuko jerks his palm, the flame is readily there. "You're allowed to be angry and bitter. Why do you think otherwise?"

Something tortured flashes in Katara's features, and she glances at the nearly full moon in disgusted hatred. The ice clinks and breaks as she lets her hands fall, and she sits on a nearby bench. Zuko doesn't approach her as cautiously this time, simply because he doesn't want to give her time to rearm her battlements.

"You're allowed to feel anything you want," he says carefully. "You're also allowed to do anything you want."

"I already tried to get Appa to take me to the South Pole," Katara mutters miserably. "He wouldn't go—this is his rest time, and I think he's in the same routine as Aang."

Zuko sighs. "So what?" he mimics, and takes her hands as he rises. "I'll take you there."

"The Firelord?" Katara barks wryly. "Going to the South Pole; are you mad?"

Zuko grins. "Call it a diplomatic mission. Your father is the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, isn't he?"

Katara stares up at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Zuko glances at the waxing moon. "I don't like seeing my most genuine friends upset, and if it is within my power to fix their discomfort, I will." He grins quickly, and it's a look Katara's not all together familiar with seeing on his face. "I'm the Firelord. What will they say?"

Katara sighs. "I should at least talk to Aang before I go."

Zuko finally lets the protective side of him show, finally lets the hint of his truest feelings come out. "So what if he's angry? Haven't you been trailing him long enough? It's not like he asked you for permission for much of anything."

Katara studies him for a long moment as they start to head back towards the state building. "You know…when we were younger…well, younger and after the war."

Zuko nods, and distinctly feels the chill of her skin when she takes his hand in an almost-friendly manner. There's something not quite so friendly about the way she twines her tapered fingers into his. "Yes?"

She smiles at him—he's struck suddenly by how fragile that smile is, by what a delicate balance she has managed to kindle between happiness and cynicism. He doesn't remember Katara ever being so much a part of the fine line he walked every day.

"I always wanted a rematch," she admits, and her voice sounds a bit broken.

Zuko sighs, and stops their walking to face her. He brushes his lips reverently over her knuckles, his pale skin almost blue in the moonlight. "Katara, don't you get it?"

She raises an eyebrow.

He moves to hug her, and it's just tight enough to make both of them ache in an indeterminable way.

"You won a long time ago," he says into her hair, and strokes his fingers through the strands.

"I'd like to think of it as a draw," she says, and when she speaks, her lips are just against the open vee of his robes at his collarbone.

They walk back towards the state building in silence, fingers still interlaced, their steps in perfect sync with each other.

Katara reminds herself that there's a long ways to go before the South Pole—they have a lot to discuss, and the comfortable silence now is better than the crushing quiet of repression.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


End file.
